


For Heaven's Sake

by legendofthesevenstars



Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: F/M, First Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-18 08:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18116918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofthesevenstars/pseuds/legendofthesevenstars
Summary: Allen wants to tell Marlene everything, but he's not ready. He might never be. She always understands that. He can't always be open. Neither can she. It hurts.Five conversations between Marlene and Allen, and the last words they say to each other on the last day that they see each other.





	For Heaven's Sake

_Outside my villa, by the fountain, by the time your watch ends_ , Princess Marlene had told him. Allen was accustomed to running on an exact schedule, so just as the sun started to go down, he was sitting on the bench in front of the fountain awaiting her. He had only met her two days ago, but she had been so sweet and friendly and listened while he talked on and on about Fanelia. He had thought about her violet eyes and her melodic voice all day yesterday, and he couldn’t wait to talk to her.

His heart was beating in his throat. There was so much he wanted to say, but where could he possibly start the conversation? He wrung his hands, staring at the patch of neatly manicured grass, framed by a recently-trimmed hedge, in front of him. He was so steeped in considering the possibilities that he didn’t realize she was standing right in front of him until she said his name.

He sprung to his feet and knelt in front of her to kiss her hand. “Good afternoon, Princess Marlene.” He stood up, waiting for her to sit, and then took his place next to her. She smelled like flowers; it was intoxicating. Her eyes shone, catching the late afternoon light. Suddenly, he felt tongue-tied, so he sat there smiling shyly at her, waiting for her to speak first.

“What do you think of my garden?” she asked. “Isn’t it lovely?”

“I haven’t had the chance to look around yet, actually.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She stood up with a curtsy. “I’d be more than happy to show you around.”

Standing up, he mirrored her with a short bow. “I would like that, Princess.” He followed her down the cobblestone path.

The first thing that struck him was that, contrasted to the wildflowers in the Asturian countryside of his childhood, everything was so neatly maintained. Not just the palace lawn he walked through every day; the bushes, trees, and flowers were precisely manicured. It was early spring, and many plants were only nascent sprouts, but crocuses and daffodils already showed their faces, and trees budded in pink and white. Mother would have loved it.

Marlene stopped and turned to face him. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful garden.” _But not as beautiful as you_ , he thought but couldn’t say, wouldn’t dare to say.

“Thank you.” Her smile glowed with pride. “So you like flowers, too? What’s your favorite kind of flower?”

“I love flowers. I always liked gladiola. What about you?”

“Carnations, they’re sweet little things. But,” she frowned, “I’m not really allowed to garden. I just pick out the flowers and help lay out the plan, and then the gardener takes care of it all. I suppose I’d like my garden better if I worked on it myself, you know?”

Allen gave her a small smile. “Yes, I do know. There’s a certain satisfaction to getting dirt on your hands and being able to say, ‘I helped make this happen.’”

“You’ve gardened before?”

He nodded. “My master had a vegetable garden. I helped him tend to it. My mother always wanted a garden. My sister and I used to go out and pick wildflowers for her. Then we’d sit down and page through her encyclopedia of flowers, planning for the day when she would have a garden and we’d help her with it. We never did plant that garden.”

He looked away from her for a moment. Shortly before they’d had a chance to help Mother get started on the garden, Father had left. The encyclopedia fell out of use and began to gather dust on the shelf. Instead, Mother sat in Father’s study for hours, poring through books and writing him letters. Confused, Celena kept pestering her about the garden, until Allen, being older and more perceptive of Mother’s sorrow, told her to let it go. Two years later, Celena ran across that meadow and vanished, and then Mother shriveled to nothing in her bed.

Marlene still hadn’t asked why, so Allen cleared his throat and said, “We ran out of time. I had to leave for Fanelia, so I could train under my master.” He had been slow to think of an excuse, but hopefully it was good enough to stop her from prying into why he’d talked about Mother in the past tense. He should avoid mentioning his family; it still hurt too much to even think about them.

“I see. So that’s how you learned so much about flowers, by reading your encyclopedia. I have a book of flowers, too.”

He met her eyes again. The warmth of her expression hadn’t faded. That had been close.

“It’s not an encyclopedia, though. It’s a book of pressed flowers. My mother showed me how to press flowers. Carnations are easy to press because they’re small and the petals can lie flat. My mother loved roses, but I never found them particularly captivating. I like the wild ones.” There was a bit of inscrutable mischief in her smile.

“I like wildflowers, too,” he said.

She giggled softly, and his heart skipped; he couldn’t help but grin.

“What? What did I say?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just—” She grinned. “That was so cute. You’re funny.”

Cute? A slight blush colored his cheeks. She’d called him _cute_.

“Funny? I didn’t think I said anything ‘funny.’”

“It’s not what you _said_.”

“Then what is it?”

She waved her hand. “Oh, never mind. Come on, let’s sit down. You must be tired from standing all day.”

He followed her back to the bench. Once they’d sat down again, he said, “Tell me more about your mother. And the rest of your family, if you want to.” He knew she had two sisters, but knew nothing about her parents, aside from King Aston, whom he’d seen when he was awarded his position.

“My mother’s name was Therese. She died about eight years ago.”

“My sympathies.” From the way she’d talked about her mother, Allen had gathered they’d suffered the same loss.

“It’s all right. Millerna was still young when she left us, so only Eries and I remember her that well. You’ve met my father, I suppose. He loves us, but sometimes,” her expression fell, “he loves playing politics more.”

At least she still had her father. He was a king; there would be no reason for him to leave his family.

“Tell me more about Millerna and Eries.”

“Eries is your age; Millerna’s six years younger. Millerna looks like me—we take after our mother. Eries has long, straight hair. She’s a little more serious than Millerna and I. She likes to read, and she’s interested in history and politics. She’s been taking violin lessons for about three years.”

“Is she talented?”

“Yes, although it took a lot of practice to get there. She’s determined, though. She never gives up on something she wants. None of us do.” She gave Allen another knowing look, but he didn’t catch on.

“And Millerna?”

“Millerna’s full of energy. She’s a genius.”

He recognized the “proud older sibling” look in Marlene’s eyes, and he had to think briefly of Celena. Where was she? Was she alive? And if she was alive, what was she doing?

“Unlike her sisters,” Marlene went on, “she’s a natural at math and science. She loves playing house. More than anything, she wants a pet to take care of. Well, and a model of the human body.” Seeing Allen’s consternation, she laughed. “I know, it’s a little out of the ordinary, but she wants to be a doctor.”

“She can’t be both a princess _and_ a doctor, can she?”

“I know that once she gets older, she’s going to be told that she can’t do both. But she’s still a girl. So I want to let her dream.”

She suddenly got a distant look in her eyes. Allen sensed there was something she wanted to say but couldn’t, or something she couldn’t bring herself to say. He wanted to touch her arm gently and comfort her, but he didn’t have the courage to do that yet. What if she didn’t want to talk about it? He still barely knew her.

When another minute went by and she still didn’t speak, continuing to stare into the distance, he asked, “Is everything all right?”

“I think I have to turn in for the night.”

“Understood.” It was starting to get dark. “Can I see you again tomorrow evening?” he ventured.

“Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

They both got up from the bench, and he knelt in front of her, kissing her hand, and rose. He bid her farewell, and as he walked away, he thought about her sisters, and what she had said about Millerna. She would go inside and see her sisters and her father. She had a family. He had nothing, and since he’d left Balgus, he really had nothing. She was lucky.

—

During the five years he’d been estranged from his homeland, Allen’s mastery of the finer details of Asturian high society had begun to slip. His polite, deferential way of talking to his elders or those of higher social stations had never changed, and certainly, he remembered basic manners; he and Celena had always been expected to keep their elbows off the table and say “please” and “thank you,” even when they were not hosting guests. But there were many other pleasantries to be remembered, or that he had never learned. He could blame the latter on Father, who acted the opposite of the aristocrat that he technically was. Perhaps Mother, who had adjusted quickly to his stark, servant-less lifestyle, had been too good of a match for his father—too good to get him to stay.

“So that’s what chivalry’s all about,” he said. He had been explaining the code of the Knights Caeli to Marlene, lifting his hands occasionally to gesture, rather than keeping them tightly folded in his lap. “I know that following the code will help me become a better man and a better Knight. But the problem is the etiquette part of it. I’m a disaster when it comes to etiquette.”

“So that's why you're asking for my help?”

“Yes. To be worthy of my title and Asturia,” he sounded like one of the elder Knights, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that, “I have to work on my manners.”

An awkward silence ensued.

“It really does sound stupid when I say it like that, doesn’t it?”

Marlene laughed, a light jingling sound, and Allen felt like the air had been knocked out of him. “I never really thought about it,” she said. “It does seem kind of silly. But that’s just how Asturia is.”

“But when you think about it, it _is_ ridiculous. Balgus always treated me with respect, even if he was fifty years my senior and far more skilled with a blade. Here, I know I’m constantly being scrutinized by my fellow men. Everyone thinks I’m weird because I don’t know that I’m supposed to put my napkin in my lap or that I have to drink in little sips instead of all at once.”

“Did they say they thought you were weird?”

“No, but I know that’s what they’re all thinking. I really don’t fit in here. I should have stayed in Fanelia.”

“Allen—”

“I didn’t even want to go back to Asturia. I wanted to stay in Fanelia. I didn’t want to go back.”

“Allen, that’s enough.”

Her hand on his forearm sent a shiver up his spine. She had a serious, determined expression that he had never seen before.

“Princess Marlene?”

“Of _course_ you belong here. If you had never come back, you would have never become a Knight Caeli, and I would have never met you. Please don’t say something like that. Please don’t go.”

“Princess Marlene, I…”

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t know etiquette. You’ve proven yourself through your swordsmanship. You’re an amazing fighter. I saw it for myself.”

His heart drummed in his throat. “You really mean that?” He always felt a rush of excitement whenever anyone complimented his swordsmanship.

She nodded. “Besides, I can’t teach you that. But I can teach you etiquette. Or anything I know that you want to learn. But please, _don’t_ go. I want to keep spending time with you.”

“You—” Allen’s mouth hung open. “You like spending time with me?”

“It makes me happier than anything.”

She didn’t want him to go. She wanted him to _stay._ He belonged here—as a Knight Caeli, as an Asturian, and here, here by her side. She wasn’t getting tired of his visits. She wanted to spend more time with him. Hearing that made _him_ happier than anything.

“Let’s just forget about etiquette for now,” he said. “You can teach me something else in the meantime.”

She let go of his arm and sat up straight. “Really? What do you want to learn?”

She could probably teach him one of her hobbies—painting or cross-stitch—both of which were totally new to him. Painting would probably take some skill in drawing and knowing what colors to use, and he wasn’t really the artistic type. But he might be able to do cross-stitch. He’d never sewn before, but he had plenty of experience wrapping the hilt of a blade. He could focus on meticulous detail, and he enjoyed tedium—he knew that much from all the time he’d spent helping Balgus in the garden.

“Please teach me how to cross-stitch,” he said.

“Gladly!” A wide smile spread across her face. “Oh, this is so exciting, Allen, I can’t wait. Let’s start right now!”

“Go right ahead.” The sun hadn’t set; they still had about an hour left.

“I’ll go get my sewing kit.”

She rushed inside, and a couple minutes later she came out with a latched wooden box, which she sat between them on the bench.

“First, I’ll have to make a pattern. Unless you’re going to do it freehand.”

“A pattern would be helpful, yes.”

Unlatching the box, she retrieved the bundle of half-sheets of paper curled inside one of its compartments. “Most people start by stitching a word. Any ideas for a word you might want to stitch?”

“Hmm… maybe something to do with my title? That might be nice to hang up in my room when it’s done.”

“Well, ‘Knight Caeli’ is a bit long.” She hummed, worrying the edges of the paper in her fingers. Then she gasped and her face lit up. “Oh! Isn’t ‘Caeli’ Middle High Gaean for ‘sky’ or ‘heavens’? How about ‘heaven’?”

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and he was overwhelmed by a rush of emotion. Heaven. He always felt weightless when he was with her. She always let him pour his heart out, listening to every word he said, and respected him when he wanted to stop. When he wasn’t in the mood to talk, she filled hours of silence with memories of her sisters or the plot of the last book she’d read, and he walked home a healed man, her voice echoing in his ears, his heart beating madly, thinking about her with a foolish, lovesick grin on his face. Even on his worst days, he could keep going because he always had the chance of seeing her. She was his light. Being with her like this was heaven.

“That’s _perfect_ ,” he said, his voice cracking and dropping to a whisper.

Her face fell for a moment. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, thank you. Go on,” he said, swallowing and trying to blink back his oncoming tears. “Please, draw the pattern. We’ll keep talking.”

She looked at him for a moment longer, then redirected her attention to the paper. “You seem different today,” she remarked. “I’m still worried about you.”

“Thank you for always worrying about me, but I think I’m going to be all right,” he said. “As long as I have you to talk to, I’ll be fine.”

A blush spread over her pale cheeks. “I’m glad to hear that.”

He lost his breath for a moment. She was even more beautiful when her face went pink.

“Please take care of yourself,” she said, concentrating intensely on the paper.

“I will.” He had to stay in good spirits to be a good Knight, and he hated to worry her.

—

Like anyone who had grown up in Asturia would, Allen knew all the myths of the old gods, the most famous of which was the legend of Alia and the wrath he incurred from Jeture Himself, all in his endeavor to be reunited with his beloved Meifia. It had led to the common Asturian belief of “good wishes” and “bad wishes.” But Allen had never thought to pray to gods before. It wouldn’t do any good, because if the gods did exist, they were merciless in their cruelty, just like Jeture had been.

“I would say I believe more in fate than in gods,” he told Marlene, having set the cross-stitch on his lap so he could articulate with his hands. “I don’t understand putting faith in someone or something I can’t see.”

“But you don’t have to see them. You can feel their influence. Just look at everything around you,” she insisted, gesturing to the flowers, in full colorful bloom as spring became summer. He couldn’t help but think of Mother and how she would have been in awe of such a sight. “The grass, the sea, the sky, the flowers, the people. How could Gaea’s beauty be an accident?”

“I’m not saying that there aren’t gods at all,” Allen said, maintaining an even calmness. “I’m just saying that gods don’t play a role in my life. The only thing I trust is fate. Things will turn out how they turn out, and I’ll have to accept that. In other words, if the gods have no reason to care about me, then I have no reason to care about them.”

“How can you say that? Haven’t you ever had an experience you couldn’t explain? Doesn’t it seem like there could be a higher power?”

He thought back to the night of Mother’s death, when he felt like someone had been squeezing all the air out of his lungs. Back to when he had first met Balgus on the outskirts of Fanelia, how they had both been searching for a purpose. How Marlene had attended the same tournament in which he’d participated.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie, Allen! You’ve experienced coincidences. That’s just how Gaea is; there’s no denying it.”

In that moment he thought back to all the lies he’d told to try and cover up any hint of tragedy in his past. He danced around the subject as nimbly as when he wielded a blade. Had she ever realized how much he was hiding from her? Did she know just how hard it was, when she looked into his eyes sincerely and emphatically? Did she know that he was dying to be vulnerable and give himself up, body and soul, to her?

“I’m not lying, I just don’t know if I have. How can I know? I’m not a god. I’m not in control of fate. And even if there were gods deciding that, what about people’s will? We try to change fate all the time, but if there are gods, why even try? Wishes and prayers won’t do any good. Even our actions won’t do any good if there really are deities controlling our fate.”

“I didn’t say the gods were controlling all of fate. Of course we have a say. That’s the reason why we pray and wish. Because we know Jeture will listen, if our wishes are clear and come from a good place. But if you make the wrong wishes, then He won’t grant them.”

“But how does he decide what’s right and what’s wrong? Whose side is he on? To whom is he loyal?”

“You know the legend. He grants good wishes.”

“What does that mean, ‘good’? What code of right and wrong is he following?”

Marlene furrowed her brow. “Jeture passes His judgment on those who do not have a good heart. As long as your wishes are pure, He’ll grant them. It doesn’t matter what we think good and bad are. He decides that.” She grumbled. “ _Why_ is that so hard for you to understand?”

“Because I don’t get it! If I have a good heart, then why are my wishes not being granted? I’m going to question if there really _are_ gods, aren’t I? Eventually I’ll start making different wishes, maybe I think those are bad, and what if they get granted? Who’s deciding this? It makes no sense!”

“Oh, I can’t _believe_ you!” She stood up, her arms folded, and turned her back to him.

His frustration faded for a moment. Had he actually made her angry? He couldn’t stand to think that she might be mad at him for disagreeing with her. She always encouraged him to be open about what he thought. He hadn’t meant to almost turn it into an argument.

“Princess Marlene?” he said, now that he’d calmed down. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

She sighed, then turned around, smiling. “Don’t worry about it. I forgive you. I got carried away too. We don’t have to agree on everything. I know your life has been difficult, and that’s why it’s hard for you to believe. Right?”

He lowered his head, staring at the cross-stitch lying in his lap. “Yes.”

“I’m so sorry, Allen. I was the one who brought it up. I just feel like I can talk about anything to you, but I know there are some things you don’t want to talk about.”

“Thank you for understanding,” was all he could manage. He still couldn’t meet her eyes.

She walked over to him and sat back down on the little section of bench behind him and started to rub his back with one hand. Then she leaned in and set her chin on his shoulder, and he flinched.

He turned his head so he could look over his shoulder, and just as he did, she lifted her head slightly, and her nose and lips brushed against his cheek. He seized up, a shiver running through his entire frame, but neither of them moved. Feeling lightheaded, he tried to swallow, but there was a lump in his throat. They were close enough that they could hear each other’s breath. The summer sun was still high. The days were longer this time of year on Gaea. He still had time. He still had so much time. And yet everything seemed to hinge on this one moment. If he turned around just a little bit more, and drew her face toward his—

He moved his head and, as if she knew what he was going to do, she leaned forward, closing her eyes. He closed his eyes and their noses bumped briefly before their lips met. Her breath was as warm as he’d anticipated, her lips soft beneath whatever makeup she’d put on them. He lifted his hand to her face, and slowly, she placed her hand over his. They broke away to breathe a moment later, lowering their arms, and he opened his eyes just as her own dark eyelashes parted.

He turned back around and leaned forward, feeling his lips with his forefinger and thumb, staring blankly at the space where she usually sat. She got up and walked back around to her seat, and sat there with her hands folded in her lap, her face bright red, looking everywhere but at him.

His first kiss. Probably hers, too. He wouldn’t have wanted it with anyone else. He wanted to tell her so badly, and there was no better time than now, but he still couldn’t bring himself to say it. Because, for once, he was speechless.

—

Allen had always been patient. Even as a child, he had been content to wait for anything, especially something he really wanted. But tonight, at the first formal ball he’d attended, he was growing weary of dancing with strangers. He was polite to every woman he danced with, but curt and distant enough that he hoped they’d get the hint that he was waiting for someone. _Sorry, I’m taken_ , he might say, even if he wasn’t, not really. They had held hands and hugged after that day, but he hadn’t had the bravery to initiate another kiss.

He had already seen Marlene when she descended the twin staircases at the beginning of the ball. Her pale arms and shoulders stood out against her dark red gown, and she wore a gold necklace with a red gem in its center and earrings to match. Her hair was tied into a curled ponytail that flowed over one shoulder, and her bangs hung loose over her circlet. He’d hardly been able to tear his eyes away from her. As the night went on, he continued to scan the crowds, not wanting to miss out on any possible glimpse of her.

Two hours had passed before she finally made her way over to him. He bowed and kissed her hand, as always, then stood up, still holding onto her hand. Only the notion of propriety kept him at a polite distance from her. He wanted so badly to draw her to him, hold her close, and kiss her. Instead, he had to settle for one hand on her waist and the other holding her hand. It was fortunate that he’d had plenty of other partners with whom to practice before the most important partner of the night—he’d always “danced” with the other children when his parents had friends over, but that was a long time ago.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked as they waltzed across the ballroom floor.

“I am, but even more so now that I’m with you.”

“Me too. I was getting so tired of waiting. But it was so hard to break away.”

“Are you going to stay with me?”

She glanced back over her shoulder, then turned around. “I want to, but… my father.”

“What about him?”

She shook her head. “Forget about it for now. I’ll tell you later.”

It bothered him. He was, of course, happy to have her so close to him. As a child, he’d fantasized about dancing with a woman who was special to him when he grew up. And it was bliss, holding her and looking into her eyes like this. But there was a trace of unhappiness in her smile, and he wanted to understand.

“I need to know,” he said. “Please tell me, if you can.”

She looked all around them, and then leaned toward him. “When this song’s over, go to our spot. I’ll meet you there.”

He followed her instructions and departed the ball early. He sat on the bench in the tepid humidity, the air thick like soup, the armpits of his shirt still soaked from the heat of the ballroom. His jumpsuit was stifling, so he unbuckled the straps and eased it off of his shoulders, undoing the toggles so it could hang open over his uniform skirt. He removed his gloves and gauntlets, untied his neckerchief, and let the top of his shirt hang open, and sat there wiping his forehead with the back of his hand until he heard the rustle of her gown.

“Sorry that took so long. I had to convince Father I wasn’t feeling well. It’s not easy to fool him.” Carefully, she eased herself onto the bench, and he drew his legs together so that she would have more space for her skirt. She looked over at him and her eyes briefly darted to his exposed chest. “Are you hot?”

“It’s the humidity. Could you please bring me some water?”

“Sure, I’ll be right out.” She got up, stumbled, then kicked off the heels she was wearing and rushed inside. She came back out a moment later with a glass of water. He downed it instantly, so she brought him another one, and then took the empty glass back inside again. Then she fell back onto the bench in a flourish of petticoats, breathing heavily from running back in and outside. Her hair was beginning to frizz, and her face was slightly flushed. There were some black smudges at the corners of her eyes, where she must have smeared some of her makeup along the way.

She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

Once she’d caught her breath, he said, “Tell me about your father. What’s going on?”

Her expression fell. “Oh, right. I… I haven’t wanted to tell you, because I didn’t want to hurt you. You already have enough on your mind as it is.”

“You could never hurt me. You know that.”

“Oh, Allen.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I’ve just been betrothed to another man. I’m so sorry.”

His entire body went numb. “What? What do you mean?”

“My father arranged my marriage to the Duke of Freid. I’ve never met him before, but he says he’s a kind man, and he hopes I’ll be happy. I agreed to it.”

“Why? Why did you agree to it?”

“I don’t have a choice. I should have never allowed this for myself, going behind Father’s back like this to meet you. I should have been honest with you and told you from the start that we could never be together. I had the feeling you didn’t know the truth.”

“But I don’t understand. Why can’t I be with you?”

“You’re just a knight,” she said, her voice breaking. She lowered her head. “Knights can’t marry princesses.”

“But… but…” He felt like he was choking. He could barely get it out, but he had to say it. If not now, when would he ever get the chance?

“But I _love you_!”

She lifted her head with a gasp, holding her hand over her heart.

“I love you.” It was a relief to finally say it. He grabbed her shoulders and locked eyes with her. “I love you, Princess Marlene!”

Her eyes started to water. She sniffled. Then she burst into tears, and he drew her into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. Reluctantly, he started to rub her back, feeling the ridges of her corset through her dress, and she leaned further into the space between his neck and his shoulder, sobbing.

He could never resent her for not telling him. It wasn’t her fault. It was another stupid social custom that no one had ever told him about. Storybooks had lied to him when he was a child. Knights were always saving and falling in love with princesses. He had always wished for somebody to love, and he had been given that person, just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. If the gods did exist, he was even more certain now that they were ruthless, cruel.

She lifted her head up and drew herself away from his embrace. “I love you, too,” she said. And then she leaned forward and kissed him.

His hands started somewhere in her hair, undoing her ponytail so he could weave his fingers through her unraveling curls. She was holding his face, and then her hands drifted down to his exposed skin, and she traced his collarbones and trailed fingers down his sternum to his sides, grasping his waist. He held onto her bare shoulders like they were the edge of a cliff, and when she was nearly bowling him over with her eagerness, he returned her kisses with equal hunger, breaking away from her only to breathe.

He let go, his face flushed, and she withdrew her hands from the inside of his shirt. Until he’d started to wake up sweating recently, he’d never realized how deeply he’d been craving her. And she felt the same.

—

Every other time when it had rained and he was supposed to meet Marlene, Allen had always just gone home, and regretted that they couldn’t make it happen. But knowing how soon the wedding was approaching made him even more eager to spend time with her, especially considering what she had said about him stopping his visits. He didn’t want to stop. There was so much he had to tell her, so much left he wanted to say. But what did he have left to give, if he still couldn’t tell her about his past?

It was oddly cold, especially for midsummer. He had been sitting on the bench for five minutes, and he was drenched; he’d worn a coat while he was on duty, but it was unsuited for the sudden rain. But he wasn’t going to give up, and when she finally came to the door and yelled over the rain, “Allen!” he looked up, his eyes shining, and ran inside to meet her.

“Honestly, what were you thinking?” she scolded him, not without fondness in her voice. “Oh, you’re positively soaked! I can’t believe you.”

She ran frantically about and gathered some towels, then sent him to her powder room to get dry and get changed into a bathrobe of hers. It was a little bit short on him, stopping just above his knees, and tight around the shoulders, but he didn’t mind, because it was dry, and it smelled like the flowery perfume she always wore. When he walked back out, she was stoking the fire and had set her desk chair beside it, and the armchair across from it. He sat down in the desk chair and crossed his legs at the knee. She brought him a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, then leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“Stay by the fire, okay? You need to warm up. I’ll put on some tea.”

He nodded, and could only think of how bedraggled he must look, crawling back to her in this terrible weather. It was pathetic to still be obsessing over her like he did, knowing that she was going to be married soon. But when she left, what was he going to do? What was he without her?

“Only a month left,” she remarked after she’d handed him a cup of tea and sat down with her own.

His hands were shaking, and it took all his conviction not to drop his cup. Why did he feel so uneasy? He wasn’t the one getting married.

“Aren’t you nervous?” he asked her.

“A little bit. But I’ve been doing a lot of reading on Freid, and it sounds like a wonderful country. I’ll get to go to a Freidian temple—they worship the Atlanteans. And the food will be another big change, but I’m sure it’ll taste exquisite.”

“Sounds like you’re excited.” That had come out bitterer than he’d intended.

She frowned. “Are you all right?”

“As long as I’m here with you, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, drink your tea. I don’t want you to catch cold because of me.” She got up from her seat again and wrapped her arms around him, setting her head on his shoulder. He relaxed slightly, but he was still mostly a bundle of nerves.

“Allen, you’re _not_ all right. You’re shivering!”

“I’m sorry to trouble you, but I don’t feel very well.”

“I should think so.” She drew back from his body and rubbed his shoulders. “Sitting out in the rain like that.” She pushed the blanket aside, and he flinched when she started pressing her thumbs against his shoulderblades, the thin fabric of the robe bunching underneath her hands. “Oh, my. You’re tense.” She pressed harder, and he continued to wince.

“That hurts, you know,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Your muscles are hard as a rock. I have to press hard, or it’s not going to do any good.”

“Then don’t do it.”

“I’m just trying to help,” she said, removing her hands from his back with an exasperated noise. She was silent for a moment, then said, “Do you need to lie down? Do you think you’re going to be sick?”

He turned around and looked into her eyes. She did care. She cared so much about him. Here he was getting worried sick over her and the wedding, and she wasn’t even worried about it. She was worried about him. She had always wanted nothing more than his happiness, and she had suffered so long hiding the secret of her fate from him. He loved her with his entire being, and he couldn’t bear to see her torn like this.

It all came tumbling out of him at once.

“I’m scared. I’m scared about the wedding. About what’s going to come afterward. I don’t want to lose you. I want to see you—be with you—every day for the rest of my life. If I could marry you, I absolutely would. If I had to give up my life for you to be safe, I would. I love you. More than anything.”

Holding her hands to her heart, her eyes watering, she looked at him for a moment, speechless. Then she walked over and sat on his lap and buried her head in his neck. “I love you too.” She said it over and over, like a mantra: _I love you_ , _I love you_ , _I love you_. He said it too, his hands still trembling, his body still tense and cold. Then he wrapped his arms around her and set his cheek against her head, and they held that pose for a long time, while the fire warmed him, and her presence, the familiar feeling of holding her, calmed him.

“You seem a lot less nervous now,” she said eventually, lifting her head to give him another quick kiss on the cheek.

He didn’t say anything, only met her lips with a soft kiss. Then another kiss, and again, and again. Holding and touching each other, exploring each other. A fire rose in his body, and in hers; they stood up, still tangled together, and she staggered sideways toward the bed, pulling the robe off of his shoulders, and he was following her lead, fumbling with the laces of her corset, and she was right: he had stopped shaking with nervousness somewhere along the way.

-

It was hot. Hotter than any day he remembered in Asturia. Summer was dying in a desperate blaze. But still he had to wear the stiff long-sleeved shirt, the jumpsuit and skirt and boots. The King had requested him to escort Marlene that morning. He hadn’t been to see her since that night, but it had been all he’d been able to think about. How forlorn he’d been when he first came in from the rain, how she had loved him all the same, their bodies united, her blissful tears, the blind rush of ecstasy… and the grievous mistake he’d made, too caught up in his passion for her.

The sun was blaring through her windows. She was looking out at her garden, in her white wedding dress, her blue cape draped over her shoulders, already in her veil, her hair curled. She turned around to face him. He felt breathless.

“Princess Marlene,” he said. “It’s time to go.”

She nodded and walked toward him, holding the edge of her skirt and grabbing onto his arm. They walked in silence, footsteps echoing. Everyone was waiting outside for them. The Knights Caeli would stand at attention in an honor guard, and she would depart on a leviship to Freid, where the ceremony would officially be conducted.

“It’s hot out there,” he said, trying to fill the silence.

She nodded. Then she stopped for a moment and groaned under her breath.

“Is something the matter?” His voice sounded stiff and formal.

She held her hand to her pelvis. “I don’t feel very good.”

His heart fell. “You’re just nervous,” he said, distant. Though he knew what she was trying to tell him. He already knew what had happened. Their sin. His mistake.

They parted silently at the palace door. He took his position in the honor guard and waited for her approach. It really was hot, especially with the added fabric of his uniform skirt. Still, there was no moving at attention, even when he wanted to push his hair behind his ears or wipe away the beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and his back, even though his hands were starting to shake from where he’d balled them in fists beside his hips. Not until they lifted their swords would he be able to at least move his arms.

Finally, she approached the honor guard and the command was given. They stepped forward, reaching for their swords, swiftly drawing them and pointing them toward the heavens. Sweat poured down the back of his neck, and the sun was beating on his face. From his peripheral vision, he could see that his fellow Knights were also wilting under the heat. But Marlene looked as perfect as she ever had.

After the ship lifted off, the next few moments were a blur. He went to lower his sword, but he suddenly lost grip of it and fell headfirst on the pavement. There was a loud clang and people were crowding around him and chattering about how hot it was, and that he must have locked his knees. He was still lightheaded, and everything felt like it was spinning, so he didn’t open his eyes until he was certain he was inside, away from the heat.

“Don’t worry, doctor’ll be here soon,” someone told him. He couldn’t recognize the voice at the moment. He lifted his head just enough to flip over the pillow and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. There was a small gash where he’d hit his head, so he moved his hand slightly below that, and felt that his forehead was warm. He hadn’t been able to sleep last night and had barely eaten breakfast. He thought he’d be fine once the day got here, but he was falling apart.

What was there to worry about anymore, now that she was gone? She would be fine in Freid. She had accepted that she was going there, and she knew she couldn’t change it, as much as they both wanted things to be different. No, the person he was worried for now was himself. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer in Palas, and he might even be expelled from the order for what he’d done. Where was he going to go next? He had only known her half a year, but he couldn’t fathom his world without her, a world outside of Palas, of days that dragged on long without the promise of seeing her.

He opened his foggy eyes and sat up, easing his legs over the side of the bed. They’d undressed him completely except for his linen breeches, which were still plastered to his thighs. His sweat-stained uniform shirt was draped on the bedpost, blindingly white except for the dirt from the pavement smeared on its collar. Across the room, there was a dusty mirror, and he saw his thin chest and suddenly thought of her touch, of the sadness in her violet eyes, and his heart was hit with a physical ache so intense that he had to lie back down.

That night, he had a dream of a child with blue eyes who never knew his father.


End file.
